The Road Not Taken
by ElabourateIllusion
Summary: Sometimes what looks like coincidence is really fate. When Harry ran away from the Dursleys straight into the arms of a mysterious vampire, God must have been laughing. And of course, this changed everything. SLASH, HP/LV
1. Chapter 1: The Escape

Title: The Road Not Taken

Category: Harry Potter, with maybe an eeny bit stolen off Twilight

Rating: T, for some profanity, impending slash, and a really horrible vampire

Summary: One decision changed Harry Potter's life forever. It was not the easy way, but he liked to think it was right. Yes, right, for him, and for the wizarding world.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own Twilight. I own everything else that isn't from Harry Potter or Twilight. Cheers.

A/N:This story is a bunny that wouldn't let me sleep, was written in the wee hours of the night, and I don't have a beta. If you see any mistakes, I'd be very happy if you point them out to me. I expect this to develop into slash, as in a homosexual relationship, so if that squicks you, just don't read it. But I'll do my best to make it non-yucky, I promise…

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter One: The Escape**

Harry sat inside his cupboard, depressed, hungry, and bored out of his mind. The punishment he had been given after the 'Snake Episode' as he had taken to calling the day he had gone to the zoo with the Dursleys and somehow set free a boa constrictor, had been going on for about two weeks. By 'punishment', he meant that he was locked in his cupboard, allowed out only twice a day to be given a meager meal and a trip to the loo. While this was infinitely better than having his uncle yelling at him till his face turned purple, or worse, whack him round the head, two continuous weeks of such treatment left Harry bored sick. As he had spent most of the first few days sleeping away the time, he was now so incredibly alert that sleep just wouldn't come to him. He had likewise exhuasted his supply of interesting topics to think about (and no, algebra did not count as an interesting subject). At this moment, his line of thought was something like this:_I'm so bored…man, I'm so bored…heck, I'm so bored…_

A sharp rap sounded on the cupboard door. Harry jumped.

"I'm going out to the shops," came Petunia's pinched voice.

"Okay, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied, significantly more cheerful. If Petunia went out, he could sneak out for a bit, get some food, and walk around and stretch a bit. He had long since learnt the trick to get out from his locked door-it was only a simple latch.

"I don't want you setting one foot out of that cupboard," Petunia said warningly, as if in answer to his optimistic tone.

"Sure, Aunt Petunia," Harry agreed readily. After all, he wasn't setting one foot out of his cupboard-he was setting his whole body out. He grinned to himself.

Aunt Petunia gave a displeased grunt, and turned to go. Harry knelt up on his mattress, put his ear to the door and listened to the front door bang. He gave it another minute or two, and then got out of the cupboard. Snickering a little at success and freedom, he bound to the kitchen and fixed himself a jam sandwich quickly. Taking a bite, he turned to sit down at the kitchen table, and paused.

The kitchen door, leading to the back garden, stood a little way open, not closed properly, perhaps, and blown open by the wind. Sandwich raised to his mouth, he stared at the small slither of the outside, of freedom, tantalisingly dangled in front of him.

It wasn't that he'd never had the idea of running away. He'd entertained the notion many a time, and seriously thought about it at least once. That time, he had been 8 years old. At the start of term, every child in the class had been given a planner of their own, and told to keep it safe. Having had precious little to call his own, Harry guarded his very carefully. On flicking through it, he had found that it was not merely blank. In the front and back pages, there were maps, math equasions,jokes, tips for studying, and the like. Delighted with it, Harry had read it very carefully. Then he had come upon something which had made him freeze. Childline.

Even young as he was, Harry had been about 80 percent sure that the way his aunt and uncle treated him was not normal, and not right. He was sure that children were not supposed to be treated in such a way. Dudley wasn't treated that way. And there was a little girl called Claire in grade one who was also an orphan and lived with a cousin. She seemed to be happy enough too. Harry was almost certain that it was wrong that he had to live inside a cupboard under the stairs, and that he had to cook, and do housework, and wear Dudley's leftovers. Harry had passed his eyes over the phone number in the planner again and again, unsure of whether or not he should call it. He wasn't actually thinking of getting his relatives in prison, or getting himself sent to an orphanage. His idea was more along asking if his treatment was normal. All his aunt and uncle and cousin ever insulted him with was that he was a freak. So what if he could prove that he was only a freak because they had treated him wrong? Maybe that would make it better.

He had been so young at the time, and hadn't thought to wait till there was no one in the house to call the number. It was a Saturday, and although Dudley was out playing somewhere, Vernon and Petunia had both been in the house. Although he had the phone number off by heart, he was anxious, and put his planner beside him as he picked up the phone. He'd never called anyone before, never had anyone to call. Would the person on the other side of the phone be kind? He hadn't really thought about that side of the matter. But if they helped children in need, then they must be kind, right? So Harry had started pushing the buttons.

A fat finger slammed down on the earpiece holder, and the sound in the phone turned to a long beep, like that sound the hospital machine made when the person's heart stopped beating. He had looked up to see his uncle already purple in the face. Busted.

Vernon had yelled at him for a whole half hour before he thought to ask who Harry had been calling. Harry had lied that it was a friend, but the Dursleys knew perfectly well that he had no friends, and the fact that he reached behind him to clutch his planner gave him away. Vernon's small, beady eyes had very quickly found the phone number Harry had been calling, and the caption. Looking like he was within his explosion range, Vernon's meaty fists had sent Harry flying. Harry had spent a month or so in the cupboard for that, in which time Harry had thought again and again of running away, of never coming back. But where would he go? Harry had no mum, no dad, no one whom he could trust to look after him. Spending the better part of his life locked up in a cupboard had done no good to his ability to exist by himself. Add to that the thought of what Vernon would do if he found Harry, Harry had abandoned the plan. But at that time, alone in his cupboard, he had laid intricate plans as to how he would get away.

Now, two years later, Harry was once again tempted to throw up his hands, yell 'god damn it all' and run as fast as his legs could carry him. He was older, with a better chance to exist on his own, and he found that the idea of living on his own skills was a little frightening, yes, but also very, very exciting. Well, of course it was! If he lived on his own, he could…oh, have burgers for lunch, and chocolate for breakfast. And he could sleep till noon and not do housework. That would be fun.

Not quite sure if he knew what he was doing, he walked to the back door and put his head out. Could he do this? Run away from the Dursleys and never come back? It was more exciting than anything he'd ever experienced before, and although Harry didn't know, his brilliant green eyes were already lit up in excitement. Yes. He'd better do it, before he lost his nerve.

Fortunately, he had planned before, and he ran about the house like a maelstrom, gathering this and that, terrified that Petunia woulod return before he was ready and long gone. Twenty minutes later, he was ready, a small backpack containing all that he would take from this house in which he had lived for so many years. Feeling emboldened by all the adreneline rushing through his veins, he decided to leave a note for his relatives. But, really having not much at all to say to them, he only scrawled upon a writing pad 'goodbye, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley', and put it on the kitchen table. But at that moment, he heard the keys turn the front door lock.

Harry gasped, froze for a millisecond, and then sprinted out of the back door, over the fence in an instance-Harry was very good at running, by neccessity. He could hear Petunia's shrill voice behind him, saying something or the other. Maybe Dudley was home-he hadn't checked the time-or maybe Petunia had spotted him, but he had no time to think about that, the street falling behind him blurrily as he ran for all he was worth, his heart pumping a zillion times a minute. Suddenly, he felt a jerk somewhere in the region of his navel, and wondered on what he had tripped, but then he was being squeezed uncomfortably, and his world spinned-perhaps it was Dudley, caught up to him already? But as suddenly as it had come, the squeezing and spinning was gone. Before Harry had the time to feel relieved, he fell to the ground, banged his head on something hard and fell unconcious.


	2. Chapter 2: Bad Men, Not Men

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter Two: Bad Men, not men**

When Harry regained conciousness, he could hear voices talking above him. Before he could think, he let out a low groan. The voices abruptly stopped.

"Welcome back, little human, " said an unfamiliar voice.

There was something wrong with that statement, but Harry's head hurt like hell and he couldn't remember what it was. He opened his eyes blearily. Two men were standing beside him, while he was lying on a couch. He squinted-his glasses were gone.

"Mmmmeugh," Harry said, and flushed. What he'd been trying to say was probably something like, 'gimme my glasses', or 'do I know you'. He tried again.

"Either I've suffered memory loss, or I've never seen you before," he told the two men croakily.

That was a good point. Harry struggled to remember something, anything. Ah, yes. He had run away from the Dursleys. He felt abruptly very proud of himself. But then…what?

"We do not know you," said a man in a cold voice. Harry deducted that he was not the man who had spoken before.

"We saved your life, little-ah, boy," put in the other.

"Oh," Harry said. "Um..where are my glasses?"

They were waved in front of his nose. Harry grabbed for them, but they disappeared again, lightening fast, and his head throbbed.

"Now now, little boy, don't strain yourself. You hurt your head very bad, I think. It was…fortunate…that the skin is not broken. There is a bad bruise, I think."

Harry touched his head cautiously. Yes, the man was right, there was a throbbing, tender spot near his right temple. Harry's heart jumped. Even he knew, that if he had hit right on his temple, he could have died. However, he was not to be distracted from his quest, and demanded again to be given his glasses.

"Don't worry, boy, you'll have your glasses, I have no use for them," the man said, laughing as if he had made a great joke, "but I'd like you to answer a few questions for me, first."

Harry grew a little suspicious. Were these men, what Aunt Petunia had warned Dudley about, the Bad Men? But then again, they had saved him. From the Dursleys, too. Thinking about it, he was rather grateful.

"Okay," Harry decided, "I'll tell you if I know."

"Excellent!" The man said jovially. "Don't worry about it, I won't be asking you about world history." He laughed again.

Harry shivered, suddenly not so sure that these weren't Bad Men. The man's laugh was just creepy.

"Go on, then."

"Tell me, then, little boy-what are you?"

Harry blinked. _What_ was he? This person wasn't a Bad Man after all. He was a Madman, of whom Vernon Dursley always had much to say. Then again, Harry had always liked people Vernon didn't like, but…maybe even Uncle Vernon could be right once in a while.

"I don't know what you mean," Harry said warily.

"He means," the cold voice cut in suddenly, "to ask if you are a wizard, a muggle, a werewolf, or some other kind of magical being."

Harry jumped, the cold-voiced man was so silent Harry had nearly forgotten about him. Now, it seemed that he and the jolly one were a pair of Madmen. He didn't know how to answer. Really-magical being? But then again, that was something Vernon vehemently protested against as well. Harry had always loved the thought of magic.

"I don't think I'm a, uh, magical being," Harry said weakly.

Jolly sounded triumphant.

"See, Ixy? I _told_ you so, fool. I was going to be generous. But now…he is my prey only. Back off."

Prey? Harry was alarmed. He looked from one fuzzy figure to the other, thoroughly confused. They weren't…they couldn't be cannibals, surely? Not in such a respectable neighbourhood like Little Whinging.

"And _I _told _you_ that his scent is not that of a muggle. Could you answer to the Minister of Magic when he comes after you for murder? There is such a thing as a mudblood. This boy may be an ignorant fool, but I am for the _last time_-" he glanced at Harry, and back to Jolly. " My name is _Ixander_."

If he wasn't in danger of being eaten, Harry would have found Ixander's irate response highly amusing. After all, he had seen Dudley fend off his mother's nicknames before. It was one of the few rare moments that he thanked the gods he had no mother.

"Ixander, Ixander," Jolly laughed, "why get angry? Are we not the masters here? It is unwise to fight among ourselves."

"What do you propose, then?"

"I say…we give him a test. Make him prove he if he is a muggle or no. After all, mudbloods can do magic, can they not?"

"He has obviously not been trained."

But Ixander was more calm now, and Harry felt that was probably bad. If they stopped bickering, they'd _both_ talk to him. And he had a blinding headache.

"Still, magic is magic, training or no," Jolly protested.

Harry was starting to feel that giving him the nickname of 'Jolly' was highly ironic. Although he acted jolly, he seemed to fit very well into the category of Bad Men. Harry scowled.

"Give me my glasses back," he insisted.

Jolly smiled terrifyingly.

"Here you go, little boy," he cooed, dropping the thing into Harry's lap.

Harry jumped, but it _was_ actually his glasses, not a poisonous snake or anything like that. He put it on, relieved, although they were a little cracked. He fleetingly thought that Uncle Vernon would no doubt yell at him for it, and then remembered that he was never going to see Uncle Vernon again. This thought cheered him up, and he looked up at the two men. His mouth fell open. He had been wrong. These were not Bad Men. Nor were they Madmen. In fact, they weren't men at all.

There was the fact that they were both devestatingly beautiful. Being ten years old, Harry was of the opinion that beautiful should only be used to describe the fairer sex. But these men had to be described as beautiful. Furthermore, they were both the colour of chalk. And most importantly, they both had eyes the colour of blood, the sort that only turned up in sci-fi and late night horror movies. Harry gulped. Ixander had very pale hair, almost white in colour, Jolly's was darker, a light brown. They were both very good looking if not for the eyes, but Harry thought that Jolly looked more unpleasant than Ixander. It was probably due to the fact that an unpleasant smirk stretched Jolly's lips, while Ixander kept a perfect poker face.

"I would like to play a game with you, boy," purred Jolly.

For some reason, that irritated Harry. 'Boy'. He'd had enough of it from Vernon. And if he was going to get eaten anyway…

"Don't call me _boy_," he told Jolly, "I have a name. It's Harry Potter."

He hadn't expected the two's reaction. Ixander drew in a sharp breath, breathed it out slowly, and glanced at Jolly. Jolly raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and looked at Ixander. They sychronized these moves so well that their eyes met at the same moment.

"Harry…Potter," Ixander said slowly, "your parents wouldn't be James and Lily Potter, would they?"

Harry was so unused to hearing other people mention his parent's names that he jumped up in excitement.

"Yes, that's right! You know my mom and dad?"

But suddenly, he thought of something. His parents were dead, and although he didn't believe for a moment his aunt and uncles' words that they were good-for-nothing hooligans, he had never in his ten years of life come upon anyone who had claimed to know them, so he had supposed that they kept to themselves. These men knew them, and looked like zombies…maybe they were ambassadors of the devil? Harry squirmed. He just _had_ to know. So he plowed on without giving either of them a chance to answer.

"Well, obviously you do, since you know their names, but it's really too bad that I don't know you, so if you don't mind you could tell me who you are, and, well, if you really don't mind, what you are?"

Harry understood the enquiry as to 'what he was' now, as he waited expectantly.

Ixander looked at Jolly for a moment, and smiled slowly, turning to Harry, looking almost as jolly as Jolly, but Jolly didn't look so jolly now, in fact, he looked rather sour and petulant, like a mixture of Petunia and Dudley.

"Well then," Ixander said in an amused tone, "you appear to have lost, sire."

He turned to Harry.

"I must say, that it is quite an honour…and a surprise, that I should meet the boy-who-lived here, now, in this way. What we are, is a little difficult to explain. But then again, we have all the time in the world, yes?"

Jolly cracked a smile.

"My name, young Mr. Potter, is Ixander. I have not used a family name for many years. This is Sebastian Evert, my sire. We are both vampires."

Harry blinked three times, but said nothing. He had been thinking, these are not human beings, ever since he put on his glasses and got a good look at them, but to hear them actually admit to being _vampires_ was still one heck of an experience. Maybe all Vernon's yelling 'magic doesn't exist' had made a mark in his mind after all.

He held out his hand awkwardly, a small, rueful smile gracing his lips.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Ixander," he offered.

"Just Ixander will do, Mr. Potter," Ixander said dryly.

"What do you mean, Ixander, with all this? Are you going to keep this human?" Sebastian suddenly demanded.

Both Ixander and Harry turned to look at him, startled.


	3. Chapter 3: The Kidnap

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter Three: The Kidnap**

"I wouldn't use that word, but yes, that is, exactly what I intend," Ixander said calmly, after a short pause.

Harry looked from one to the other. Jolly-Sebastian, that is, looked very angry.

"It's been two decades, Ixander. Long enough for you to register that you are not a-not a wizard, any longer."

"I know that," Ixander said icily.

"Why, then, do you continue to give your attention, and your loyalty to them?"

Getting angry with a vampire was a very frightening thing. The two vampires faced each other now, eyes practically glowing with anger. Harry didn't really understand what they were arguing about, but he had an inkling that it had something to do with him. Harry shrank back into the couch.

"I do no such thing, but I do not need to justify myself to you. You are my sire, not my master. If you disagree, we part here."

Sebastian _snarled_. It was animalistic, and authentically vampirish. Ixander kept his poker face, and didn't even flinch.

"Then we shall part," he spat in a low voice, turning to go. Ixander was in his way in a flash.

"I need an oath from you, that you will tell no one, especially not the Volturi."

Sebastian bared his teeth in a feral smile.

"Why should I not? If you are so certain that you do right, then why do you fear to be known? You contradict yourself, my young friend."

Ixander _was_ quite young, Harry realised. He looked to be about twenty, while Sebastian was in his early thirties. But then, how could it 'have been two decades'? Did vampires not age?

"Give me the oath, and I will let you go," Ixander said quietly.

Sebastian shook his head slowly, an evil smile on his face.

"I don't think I will. Stop me if you can, boy. If you can't…well. I made you. It's very romantic that I should destroy you also, don't you think?" Sebastian laughed.

It happened very fast, so fast Harry had no time to see who attacked first. If he had doubted that they weren't human before, those doubts were gone now. No human could brawl in this way. Biting and ripping and tearing, all lightening fast, so that they were just a blur. It couldn't have been very long that Harry stood there, frozen and helpless. Then Ixander yelped, and Sebastian laughed again that chilling laugh, shot Harry a vicious glare, and disappeared out of the door in a flash.

Ixander swore so vehemently Harry wondered if he should cover his ears. But then again, he'd heard them all before from Vernon. Ixander sank to the ground with a muffled groan, and only then did Harry realise why he was clutch his right arm with his left so very tightly-it had been sliced right _off_. The horror overtook Harry for a moment, and he retched, slapping his hand over his mouth as he fought to keep his stomach down. It probably helped that there was no sign of blood. Maybe vampires didn't have blood.

When he finally gathered up the courage to look up at Ixander through his fringe, the vampire seemed much recovered. It seemed that vampires healed very fast indeed, as the flesh and bone was quickly knitting itself back together. Ixander saw him looking and smiled tightly.

"Never seen blood and gore before, child?"

Harry shrugged, for want of a better reply. In his usual mood, he would have pointed out the lack of blood, but he was feeling rather too sick for that.

"Do you have anywhere to return to?"

Harry shook his head.

"Come to think of it, why were you in Godric's Hollow? This place is mighty hard to penetrate, which is why we had chosen to stay here."

"Godric's Hollow?" Harry repeated, frowning.

Ixander raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, were you not aware that this place is called Godric's Hollow?"

"I thought I was still in Privet Drive," Harry said, astonished.

"Where's that?"

"In Little Whinging, Surrey."

Ixander smiled strangely.

"Godric's Hollow is on the edge of Wiltshire."

Geography wasn't Harry's strongest subject, but even he knew that was pretty far away. How could he have gotten to Wiltshire?

"That doesn't make sense," he declared.

"Of course it makes sense. Godric's Hollow was the home of the Potter family, ten years ago. Somehow, you must have gotten yourself here."

Harry blanched, and looked around him. Yes, he quickly realised that this had once been a medium sized cottage, hints of home in the decor here and there. But it must have been abandoned since his parents died, the place was falling down, a wall crumbled here, dust piled up there. This was his home? His very first, truest home? It felt warm, all of a sudden. How many times had he imagined his own parents? This, surely, was the very closest he had been to them.

Where he was standing was an abandoned living room, the wallpaper turned yellow and curled at the edges, the carpet full of dust, the couch, which he had woken up on, full of holes. There was a picture on the wall, covered with dust. Harry walked over, rubbing at the glass with his sleeve.

In the picture, a young woman stood with a baby cradled in her arms, a handsome young man behind her, laughing, his arms wrapped around her waist, sneaking kisses in while the baby distracted her, waving his chubby arms. Harry didn't need to ask to know that these were his parents, and the baby was him. His heart clenched. How he yearned to see his parents alive again. He didn't even have one little memory of them.

He turned, to see Ixander standing behind him, also looking at the picture. His arm seemed well healed.

"Why does the picture move?" He asked.

"You soak it in a potion," Ixander replied.

"So my parents were wizards?"

"And so are you."

Somehow, that surprised Harry very little. After the surreal events of today, he probably wouldn't have batted an eyelash had Ixander told him that his parents were vampires. It occurred to him that this explained many, many things-such as how he had turned his teacher's hair blue, why his hair grew back whenever it was cut, why he had turned up on the roof while Dudley was chasing him. It was enough to make his head hurt, but he suddenly realised that it didn't. That didn't seem much surprising either.

"I should take you home," Ixander said.

Harry scowled; he did not want to go back to the Dursleys, especially not now that he had learnt this much. If he was a wizard, he could definitely exist on his own. He shook his head.

"Where do you live?"

"Here," Harry said defiantly.

Ixander stared at him.

"You cannot stay here. Nor can I. If Sebastian returns to find us, we will both die."

"Then I'll go," Harry said, spying his backpack dropped by the couch, "I can manage on my own."

Ixander watched silently as Harry picked up his backpack, and ever so carefully, stood on his toes and took the picture off the wall. He put it into his backpack, then slung it onto his back. He only got as far as the door. Ixander pulled him back.

"You are not going alone. You have no idea how dangerous it is out there, especially for you. Come with me."

Harry looked stubborn.

"I don't eat little wizards," Ixander said dryly.

"You drink their blood," Harry accused.

Ixander shook his head.

"You don't know anything about wizards or vampires, or this world of ours. Come, I will tell you about it on the way."

That, rather than anything else, is what made Harry follow him, through the door, and past the little garden. It didn't stop Harry from protesting when Ixander demanded he got on his back so they could go faster. But a vampire only has so much patience with little children, which is why he threw Harry over his shoulder, backpack and all, utterly ignored all Harry's efforts to be put down, and ran at the same pace as the wind.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read my story, and especially those who favourited and reviewed. This seems to be my most successful story so far, actually. However, I'd really appreciate some more reviews-it doesn't matter if you just tell me that you liked it or that you didn't. Constructive critisism is very welcome too. I'm growing a bit short on ideas here~ **


	4. Chapter 4: A Narrow Escape

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter Four: A Narrow Escape**

In the end, Ixander proved to be quite a nice travelling companion. He told Harry all about the wizarding world, about Hogwarts, and Diagon Alley, and the difference between purebloods and half-bloods and mudbloods (that was the word he always used). He told Harry about the story of Voldemort's demise, and Harry's own part in it. It made Harry wonder-in fact, everything he told Harry made him wonder. Harry only congratulated himself on escaping, for if he hadn't, when would he ever have learnt any of this? Ixander even told him about himself.

Apparently, he had been turned into a vampire when he was nineteen, before which he had been a pureblood wizard. Vampires' appearances didn't change, so even nineteen years later, at 38, he still looked like a young man. He had never been able to shed his love for the wizarding world, as opposed to the world of the vampires, and had finally done something which had angered the Volturi to the point of ordering him destroyed. His sire, who would be killed also in punishment, urged him to flee, and together they hid in Godric's Hollow, where Ixander had once visited James Potter. Sebastian, though, was loyal to and terrified of the Volturi, and had seized the chance to spare his own life-by running to them, and tattling on Ixander.

After they emerged from Godric's Hollow, Ixander walked as little as possible, taking cabs or trains or buses. He explained to Harry that the vampires would be able to find his scent and follow after him. Once or twice, he had discreetly told Harry that there were vampires around, and made a quick escape before they could notice him.

Such a life went on for about three weeks, keeping on the move, never staying in a single place for more than a day. Harry learnt more and more about the wizarding world, and about Ixander, and was surprised to find that he rather liked him, and was liked in return. It was a feeling he wasn't much used to, as the Dursleys had quickly disuaded anyone who had ever presumed to like him from doing so. Add to the fact that Ixander knew his father, he was on the way to becoming great friends with him.

Ixander, too, was unused to this. In the beginning, his sole reason for helping Harry was that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, and there were many advantages to being on his good side, with maybe a feeling of paying James back for saving his life, once upon a time. He hadn't expected to actually like the boy. Having spent much of the past two decades hating himself for being a vampire, and doing not much of anything else, he had let his intelligent brain, his ideals, and his ambition of the past, die into the background of his grey depression. Having been a pureblood, he had once seen vampires as filth, and he was not enough of a hypocrite to leave that when he himself was one. Harry, stubborn, witty, innocent little Harry had reminded him of those goals that had once ruled his existence. He thought, he could make this boy great.

One early morning, as Harry was having a quick breakfast in the little hostel, and Ixander was watching him, a waitress brought them a letter addressed to Harry. Ixander only needed to glance at the parchment to know that it was Harry's Hogwarts letter.

"Mail? For me?" Harry chirped cheerfully.

Ixander couldn't resist grinning back.

"Yes. In fact, I do believe it's from Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes lit up, and he hastily swallowed his mouthful of milk to grab at the letter. Ixander watched him as he read through the letter, and saw delight, then excitement, then interest on his face. He idly thought that he would have to help him change that. Wearing one's heart on one's sleeve wasn't a good thing, however convenient it was for him.

"Well?" He asked, as Harry finally put the letter down.

Harry suddenly looked apprehensive.

"Ixander, it says I have to buy a load of wands and cloaks and stuff."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I don't have any money!" Harry blurted out, blushing.

"I do," Ixander said calmly.

"I can't let you pay for me," Harry muttered, the stubborn look Ixander had gotten very familiar with firmly planted on his face.

Ixander found that very amusing.

Even before he had been turned, he had been used to dealing with people just like himself, polished, polite purebloods, who said one thing and did another, spoke in a language only they understood, and dealt in ways more of 'cautious alliance' than 'friendship'. At nineteen years old, he might have turned up his nose at Harry, but now, he could appreciate the boy as he should be. Harry was a good child, which didn't stop him from being powerful and strong. After travelling together for so long, he had gathered that his relatives treated him badly. Yet for that, he could see dislike in plenty, but not hate-and that in itself was strength, that, in living with the petty and selfish, he had not become petty and selfish himself.

"Silly child," he murmured affectionately.

"Your parents left you plenty of money, I'm sure. I told you your father was a pureblood. He was wealthy."

Of course, Harry couldn't be expected to resist that. Ixander ended up telling Harry all about the Potter family on the train to London.

It took Ixander longer than he had expected to find Diagon Alley. It had been so long, so very long since he had dared come here, too ashamed to brave the curious looks of passers-by and the whispers of 'vampire'. He hurried Harry through the Leaky Cauldron, not wanting him to be recognised.

He took out his wand, opened up the wall, and allowed Harry, and himself, a moment to appreciate Diagon Alley.

"Cool…" Harry breathed.

Ixander guided him with a hand on his shoulder, pointing out the book store, and the clothiers and the wand shop.

"Where are we going now?" Harry asked.

Ixander pointed to Gringotts.

"That is the wizarding bank."

Harry shamelessly gorked at the goblins, who shamelessly glared back. Ixander whacked him on the back of his head and told him not to stare. But how could he not? Diagon Alley made him wish he had some pairs of spare eyes lying around. Harry had never in his wildest dreams imagined that this could be real. Seriously though-goblins? Why not tell him next that dragons guarded the bank?

"I would like to withdraw some money from the Potter vault," Ixander said to the goblin, in thaat clear, cold voice he always used with strangers.

The goblin at the counter looked up, and didn't look away again. He stared and stared and stared, and then, finally, opened his mouth.

"Your key, sir?"

Ixander brushed back Harry's fringe to show his lightening-bolt scar.

"Here is my key."

The goblin's eyes widened. Then he ducked his head into a little bow.

"Just a moment, please, sir. I must consult…"

Trailing off, he hopped off the stool, and disappeared through a small door, leading further into the bank. Harry glanced up at Ixander, rubbing his forehead. Ixander had told Harry of the story of his scar before, and now that he knew it was a magical scar, he often thought he felt it tingling when he was quiet. But Ixander was frowning.

"What's the matter?"

"Something about that goblin…it's strange."

Harry shrugged, and Ixander said no more. After a few moments, the goblin returned, asking them to step through the door from which he had come. Harry and Ixander followed him, through a marble paved and torch-lit corridor lined with doors, till they came to a door near the end.

"In you go, sirs," the goblin said, turning the door for them.

Ixander took a step forward, standing in the doorway, and froze. Harry could not see what had made him stop.

"Long time no see, my young friend," came a pale voice from inside the room.

Ixander said nothing, but his scarlet eyes were very wide.

"It was bold of you to come here today, Ixander. Had you forgotten how far my powers reached? Or were you so wrapped in the illusions of wizarding power that you felt my strength weak in comparision?"

"No, master," Ixander said in a low voice, his face blank, his lips barely moving. "I remember your power."

Harry began to be a little afraid. Was this the Volturi Ixander had spoken so much of? Their short aquaintance had already caused Harry to feel that Ixander was a strong man, and anyone who could make Ixander call him master must be a dreadful man-or vampire-indeed.

"Then, perhaps, was it that this is what you wished? You wished to bring me this little human creature, as tribute in exchange for your continued existance?" The pale voice was turning amused.

Ixander bowed, deeply. And Harry was just beginning to feel dismay and horror, and wonder if he should run, when there was a sudden flash and an angered hiss and then he was somehow in Ixander's arms and they were flying away. Ixander's face was that inpenatrable mask again, and yet Harry thought he could discern fear in his eyes. But then they reached the end of the corridor, and the door was locked, and Harry could hear persuit behind them. Ixander flung open a door, which revealed an office with a startled goblin. But now they were boxed in, and Ixander did the only thing he could-he threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, and yelled out the name of a place most familiar to him, as a prayer to the gods.


	5. Chapter 5: Facedown

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter Five:**

Harry had never traveled by the floo before, and found it to be a most unpleasant sensation. The spinning and whirling made him want to be sick, and he coughed in soot and other nasty things. Fortunately, he was still in Ixander's arms, otherwise, he thought he might have been in danger of falling out. Finally, after what seemed an age to him, the spinning slowed and stopped, and they stepped out of an enormous, gilded fireplace.

He was put down on the floor. He coughed, and barely had time to register his surroundings before Ixander pushed him behind his back. He blinked, and then saw the reason.

They were standing in a large and luxurious room, done in shades of blue and grey. Dark mahogany bookshelves and cabinets with shining glass doors lined the walls. Sunlight poured in through the windows, and where they fell on Ixander, they dissolved into rainbow coloured light. Papers were strewn untidily over a large desk. But all this, Harry saw in a second, barely taking it in. His attention was called to a more immediate danger-a tall, blond-haired man, his expression twisted in fear and shock, whipping out his wand to press it into Ixander's throat. Ixander himself, seemed to have forgotten about Harry but for the hand holding him behind his back, his whole attention was focused on the man before him, a small, mocking smile upon his face.

"Give me a reason not to extinguish your existance here and now, vermin," hissed the man in an angry undertone.

Ixander laughed, a hysterical note that Harry had never heard in his tone.

"By all means, do so. It would not be the first time that you had taken all that I had."

A flash of something like guilt flashed through the man's eyes, and he took a step back, taking his wand from Ixander's throat, but still levelling it at him.

"Tell me why you are here."

"I have every right to be here."

"Those right were forfeited long ago."

Ixander's crimson eyes flashed in anger, and then something happened too fast for Harry to see what had happened. All he knew was that in the next second Ixander was sitting astraddle the man's waist, the same wand that had been leveled at him dangling between his fingers. He leant down, and his own white blonde hair mixed with the man's, so similar in colour that it was all but impossible to tell which was which.

"It was foolish of you to underestimate me. You call me vermin, and no doubt you think it too, but you forget that _this_ vermin can do things you cannot. You forget who I am, hm, my brother?"

"_Brother_?" Harry blurted out.

Ixander looked up at him, fot the first time since their arrival. He smiled, almost feral.

"Ah, yes. Perhaps, I have been a little_ impolite_. I should introduce you. Harry, this is the current master of this house, my younger brother, Lucius Malfoy. Brother, this is the so-called Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter."

Ixander saw the way his brother's eyes lit up with first shock, then calculation, and also greed. Yes, Lucius' mindframe he knew well indeed. This visit to his childhood home had not been planned-he had panicked, truly panicked, when he had seen Caius in Gringotts, and but for this he had thought of no way to survive. Lucius he could manipulate, but Caius he could not overcome. Ixander's ming whirled quickly, thinking up a plan to twist this situation to his favour. After all, Ixander was a very clever man-that is, a very clever vampire.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Lucius Malfoy purred.

Ixander was sure he was busy being very sly as well, but he was perfectly confident that Lucius could never win over him. He had never been able to do that as a child, and neither was he going to accomplish it twenty years on. It was only that one time…that one time he had not seen through Lucius' tricks…and it had cost him everything. Ixander smiled slowly. It was not exactly a pleasant smile, and he saw Lucius pale.

"Yes, brother," Ixander said with every illusion of being pleasant, "I have been quite impolite. For instance, you asked me what I was doing here, hm? Perhaps I should have answered you more clearly."

Lucius was frightened, and Ixander knew it. He threw the wand up into the air, casually, and let it fall, fall, fall…catching it centimetres from Lucius' throat and using it to lift Lucius' chin. Lucius' breath was slightly shaky.

"What-what is it that you need of me?"

With his left hand Ixander pressed Lucius' wand into its owner's throat, his other hand slid forward so that he was leaning so close that Lucius could feel his breath and see the fangs in his mouth. He spoke, however, still in that mockingly-pleasant tone.

"Not very much, Lucius…if you comply. Your brother only asks you this once. If you refuse me I shall not be pleased. Will you comply, brother?"

"You must tell me what you need," Lucius replied, looking panicked.

"Promise. Me. First." Ixander snarled, baring his fangs.

"Very well!" Lucius cried.

Ixander sat back, satisfied.

"You will grant me unconditional sanctuary for as long as I need, and this child too. Order a house elf to prepare my old room in the west wing for me, and a room next to it for him. Do it now."

Lucius sat up slowly, shaken. He dragged a hand through his long blond hair, staring at Ixander in dismayed disbelief.

"You mean to stay here?"

"Of course, why should I not?"

"But-"

"I do not care how inconvenient it will be for_ you_," Ixander interrupted sharply, "do as I say!"

Harry was starting to get very impressed with Ixander. Well, yes, he probably should feel bad for Ixander's brother, but…Ixander was just so _cool_. He made vampirism seem like the most exciting thing ever. Suddenly, Harry rather wanted to be a vampire as well. In fact, if at that moment somebody had asked Harry what he wanted to be when he grew up, his answer would have undoubtedly been 'a vampire'.

Lucius stood up, watching Ixander warily. Ixander stayed exactly where he was, sitting on the ground. He wasn't nervous. He still had Lucius' wand, after all, and he kept remind Lucius by playing with it. He could tell that Lucius was gritting his teeth. Lucius snapped his fingers sharply, and a house elf appeared.

"You is having orders for Dobby, master?" The house elf asked, bowing deeply.

"Prepare two rooms in the west wing, I have guests."

"Wait," Ixander said, gently pushing Harry towards the creature, "go with him, Harry. You must be tired."

Harry did not like being patronised in that way, but he was actually rather shaken by the events that had occurred, so he obeyed, although not without a glare and a pout. Ixander ignored him with hidden amusement. Children were children, after all.

Dobby shot Harry a curious glance, and nodded at him. Therefore, the two little creatures left the room-Lucius' study-and headed towards the west wing.

After the door closed, Lucius looked to Ixander cautiously, waiting for him to break the silence. Ixander had stood up, and was leaning against the back of Lucius' chair with his arms crossed, reviewing the room they were in as if he was greatly interested in all the changes that had occurred since he had last been here, and looking as if he was not at all inclined to speak.

Lucius prided himself on being cool, truly he did, but this time he could not help himself. Ixander had always been the thorn in his side, the one who outshone him, made him uneasy, broke his facade. And now he was back, back again, to do what? Destroy the family and name he had worked so hard to build up? Did he hate him enough to do that? Or did he had some other reason for his return? Lucius desperately needed to find out, and he gave up their little battle of wills and broke the silence first.

"Would you care to give me an explanation?" He said curtly.

"I don't feel I owe you one."

"Don't you?"

Ixander pinned him with a stare.

"Don't you feel that your complete betrayal outshines anything I could ever repay you with? You're a vicious little bugger Lucius, truly."

Lucius flushed, and tried to pretend he was utterly unperturbed.

"Please, Ixander. Must we always bring up matters that have lain for twenty years? However bitter you are towards me, you must admit that I have been a good patriarch. You wouldn't…"

Ixander laughed.

"Oh, you think I'm here to undo your work, do you?"

Lucius didn't reply.

"Whatever, Lucius. Speculate away. And I hope it rots your little brain, so that it'll match your rotten little heart. Just one thing though, I must warn you. You've promised me sanctuary, and that is all that I need. If I find you've meddled with Harry Potter, or if you try to hurt him in any way…well, Lucius. You have a child too, don't you?"

And with a cruel, arrogant smile, Ixander left the room, leaving Lucius fuming alone.

How long had it been since anyone had made him feel this way? Lucius felt like he was seventeen once again, just because the way Ixander made him feel had not changed a bit from then. Angry, helpless, humiliated and hopelessly outdone-yes, Ixander Malfoy was the bane of his existence, no doubts about it. The lengths that he had gone to remove him…and now he was back, just like that? Lucius could not and would not believe it. He would not allow all his efforts to be blown.

If Ixander thought that he could still play Lucius as easily as he had done when he was nineteen, then he was going to get something coming to him. Lucius was not one to surrender easily. He would get rid of Ixander, once and for all, like he should have done long ago. But he had to be careful. Ixander was putting all his stakes on the young Harry Potter, right? Well, Lucius would start there. A child wouldn't be hard to manipulate. He would show Ixander, that he true and well deserved to be the Head of the House of Malfoy. Yes.

They'd see who would have the last laugh.

* * *

**I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters-real life caught up with me. I might be needing time to regain my line of thought with this story, so...patience, please. I'll do my best. Reviews are always an encouragement. Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6: Settling Down

**This is a bit of a filler chapter. As I said, I'm still regaining my feel for this story. If you have any ideas for the plot or comments on what I've already written, I'd be happy to hear them. Thanks!**

* * *

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter Six: Settling Down**

Malfoy Manor was splendour personified, and Harry was not used to it. The floors in the corridors were made of marble, there were expensive looking statues in every nook and moving portraits frowning from every wall, there were billions of rooms for you to get lost in-oh, and there were 4 floors. What sort of house was that? How could someone actually live here? This was the sort of place that should be covered with an inch of dust, closed off with tape and glass boxes, and be purely for people to oogle at. It wasn't that it wasn't nice, per se…it just didn't make Harry feel at home.

The little creature leading Harry seemed harmless enough, however, but he (was it a he?) looked rather weird, and Harry didn't quite dare start a conversation with him. So he just dutifully trooped after him, looking about at the maginificent manor house.

"Who are _you_?" A snooty drawl made both Harry and Dobby stop.

A boy of around Harry's age had just rounded the corner to see them. From the polished attire and snooty expression the boy wore and Dobby's murmured 'young master', Harry guessed that this was Lucius' son. Ixander's nephew.

"I'm talking to you!" The boy said demandingly when Harry didn't reply.

"This is Master's young guest, sir!" Dobby answered for Harry.

The boy gave Harry a once over, and sneered. Yep, surely Harry's messy hair and shabby clothing did not impress him perticularly.

"_Father's guest_? Him? You're sure it wasn't that he was trying to nick something? He sure looks desperate enough," the boy said as if Harry was not there.

Harry scowled.

"So you're Lucius Malfoy's son?" Harry shot back just as snarkily, not to be outdone. "You sure are rude enough to be, yes."

The boy scowled.

"Are you calling my father _rude_?"

"I didn't say that. I was only calling you rude," Harry retorted.

The situation was quickly spiralling out of control, and the watching Dobby was getting nervous. It was perhaps lucky that at that moment Ixander appeared.

Ixander stalked to Harry's side as if he owned the place, impressing Harry and intimidating the boy.

"What's the matter, Harry? Who is this?"

Before Harry could answer, the boy drew all attention by squeaking and taking a step backwards. Harry stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before realising what the problem was. Yes, Ixander did look rather scary if you didn't know him…or even if you knew him and wasn't on his good side. For the first time Harry was learning what it was to have somebody who would protect him, someone he could go to. Therefore, Harry didn't bother to hide his grin.

"I don't know, Ixander. Maybe your brother picked him off the streets."

Ixander raised his eyebrows, and turned to appraise the frightened kid. Pointy face, blond hair, grey eyes, yep, this was Lucius' child alright. The one with which he had been threatening Lucius not ten minutes ago.

"Ah, no Harry, I'm afraid not. I daresay you are Lucius' son, Draco, yes? I am your uncle, Ixander…Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy was very far from snooty now. His mouth hung open most unattractively, and his eyes were attempting to bulge out of their sockets. It was a few moments before he found his voice.

"No! No way!" He yelled. And without waiting for any sort of reply, he pushed past Harry and Ixander, running to find his father.

While Ixander was mature enough to keep his amusement to a small smirk, Harry wasn't, and burst out into giggles before Draco was even out of sight.

"Oh, Ixander…you're so…_cool_!"

Ixander looked down at the child, his smirk morphing into a rather geniune smile. Yes, he was really growing quite fond of this child. He would not stand for any harm coming to him. And…he would make him great.

"Come on, Harry. Let's go to our rooms."

Ixander's room apparently didn't need much preparation at all, for it was still in the impeccable condition it had been when Ixander had last stayed there. The only difference was that all the personal touches that Ixander had given his room over the years had been removed. Lucius again. But Ixander kept his dark thoughts of his brother to himself, and turned to Harry.

"Harry," he said, "we shall stay here for the remainder of the summer holidays. As Lucius has granted us sanctuary, it will be safe. However powerful the Volturi are, they won't dare meddle with wizarding affairs. But I'm afraid we shall have to get your school supplies by owl order…I can't risk going to Diagon Alley again."

"Oh," Harry said, looking put out, "but…what about my wand?"

Harry had a very good point. Ixander couldn't possibly fob Harry off with some second hand wand that might not fit him…there was a way, but for that, he'd have to trust Lucius. Ixander scowled, hating the forces that had made his brother's path cross his once more.

"You're right, Harry. You will have to go to Diagon Alley. You'll have to go with Lucius and Draco-if I remember right, Draco is the same age as you, he'll be starting at Hogwarts too."

"Really?" Harry wrinkled his nose. "That's tough."

Ixander smiled. It seemed Harry bore as little love for the Malfoy heir as he did for his father. He stood up, brushing down his clothes.

"Perhaps you should have a rest, Harry. If you need anything just call for the house elf."

"Huh? Where are _you_ going?"

"For lunch."

"I want lunch too!"

Ixander fixed him with a perplexed look.

"Harry, when I say lunch…"

"Oh…" Harry realised, embarrassed. "Well, happy eating."

Ixander's surprised laugh rang through the corridors.

Harry lay back on Ixander's bed with a huff, and marvelled at how much his life had changed since he had run away. He had turned from Harry, the freak, to Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived. He didn't have to put up with all the Dursleys' shit anymore, and instead, he got to travel around with Ixander, who was cool, clever, and nice to Harry. Draco was a bit of a snot, and Harry was rather dubious about Lucius, but Ixander seemed to have them under control. Harry's every childhood dream about a previously unknown relative come to take him away had been satisfied. Harry smiled. He was a bit tired, actually. He was really far too old for afternoon naps, but…he could just lie for a bit more. And within five minutes, Harry was asleep.

"_Lord…lord…" Subservient murmurs followed Harry as he strode quickly along a torch-lit corridor. He ignored them. He needed to get somewhere…see someone._

_There was a door at the end of the corridor. Harry pushed it open, and found himself in a large, torch-lit room, filled with kneeling, black-hooded figures. However, Harry weren't interested in them. His eyes searched the room. At that moment, a man detached from the shadows._

_The man was tall and long-limbed, with pale skin and dark hair. There was something strange about the way he looked, or the way he moved, but Harry couldn't quite tell what it was. But he realised it was this person that he was looking for._

"_So you have come to me…as you promised me…Harry…"_

"_I keep my promises," Harry said._

"_And you will keep your promise to help me?" The man smiled._

"_As long as you will keep your promises to me," Harry retorted, anxious. He needed something from this man._

_The man laughed._

"_You should trust me."_

_Harry said nothing. He didn't trust this man._

"_I want to see him," Harry demanded._

_The man appraised him._

"_Just for a moment," Harry bargained._

"_Very well," the man said, "but after your moment, we shall settle my side of the bargain."_

_The man clapped his hands twice, and two of the black hooded men kneeling on the ground rose silently, and disappeared through a door Harry had not previously noticed. A moment passed, and they returned, pushing a petrified figure. Harry's heart lurched. It was Ixander. His eyes were black as coal. Harry knew that they were starving him, starving him into madness._

"_Your moment is over," the man said, and for the first time Harry thought that his voice was so cruel. _

_He turned back to look at the man. He was offering his hand. Harry looked at it, and then looked at his eyes, finding for the first time that they were crimson, the colour of blood. It was freaky. Hesitantly, Harry stretched out his own hand, slowly, slowly, as if in slow motion._

"_HARRY! NO!" Ixander screamed, and Harry dropped his hand, startled-wasn't Ixander petrified? What was happening…_

"Harry? Harry!"

"Wh-huh?" Harry woke suddenly, his eyes snapping open to show Ixander leaning over him, his hand on Harry's arm.

"You've been sleeping for ages," Ixander told him wryly, "I thought you should probably get up and have something to eat."

"Oh," Harry said, sitting up, rubbing his forehead. He felt a little weird. Did he have a dream?

"Come on, Harry," Ixander said.

Harry stood up, and followed Ixander from the room, frowning. He was quite sure he'd been dreaming about something, but now that he was awake he couldn't remember what it was.

"Ixander? When you were waking me up…did you say 'Harry, no'?"

"What?" Ixander glanced at him, slightly confused. "No. I just said Harry. Why?"

Harry shrugged.

"Oh, I think I had a dream or something. It's nothing."

Ixander hummed noncommitally. They'd reached the dining hall-yes, the Malfoys were so posh they had a dining hall rather than a dining room-and Harry could see Lucius, Draco, and a woman he hadn't seem before whom he guessed to be Lucius' wife, sitting waiting for them. Never mind some strange dream he couldn't remember. At the moment, his reality was even more exciting and unbelievable than dreams.


	7. Chapter 7: The Vampire Wand

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter Seven:**

The following time Harry spent at Malfoy Manor might just have been the happiest he had ever had in his life. Ixander was always with him, teaching him or having fun. Draco, after a talk with his father, had warmed up towards Harry, and while he was still rather stuck up, he was usually happy to include Harry in whatever he was doing. After all, having someone to play with was a lot more fun than doing stuff alone. Lucius Malfoy himself was quite pleasant, although he kept his distance, and his wife, Narcissa, was pretty much the same-she was out socializing most of the time anyway. Then, one day at breakfast, Lucius mentioned that he and Narcissa was going to take Draco shopping for his school supplies.

"Take Harry with you," Ixander suggested. In fact, it was more of an order, but his tone was light.

Lucius frowned.

"He would be recognized. People would wonder why he was with me."

"That's easy enough to overcome," Ixander said, pulling out his wand, "Come here, Harry."

Harry turned to him, just in time to see Ixander swish his wand. Human transfiguration was a very strange feeling, and Harry couldn't hold back a squeak, of which he was very ashamed and Draco made much fun of afterwards.

"There," Ixander announced, putting his wand away.

Harry looked for a mirror, and, not finding one, upturned a brass dish to look at himself. Oh, heavens. He had turned blond. Blond.

"Eww! I look disgusting!" Harry complained.

"Happy to hear that you agree with me at last," Draco snarked, earning him a death glare from Harry.

Despite Harry's protests about his new look, half an hour later he was tumbling out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron along with Lucius and Draco-that is, Harry tumbled, Lucius and Draco walked.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked in annoyance.

Draco smirked at him.

"Well, I would tell you that it's just natural grace, but I suppose you can manage it with practice as well."

Harry huffed, and expressed his displeasure by sticking his tongue out at Draco.

Although it was the second time Harry had seen Diagon Alley, it wasn't a bit less interesting. Avoiding Gringotts, Lucius took them round first the tailors', the apothercary, and the bookshop. But he surely must have known, what Harry and Draco really wanted was their wand. And while Harry didn't know Lucius well enough to whine, Draco had no such inhibitions, and whined every step of the way, till Lucius squeezed his shoulder and threatened not to buy him a wand at all. However, in the end, they did finally arrive at Ollivander's wand shop.

Ixander's simple disguise obviously did not fool Ollivander. As soon as he swooped out of the shadows, he stated spookily, : "Ah, Mr. Potter. I have been expecting you."

This made Harry very uneasy, not the less because it was weird being called 'Mr. Potter'.

After a series of the weirdest measurements, Harry proceeded to enjoy the experience of waving all Ollivander's wands. Ollivander seemed excessively happy about that, but Harry was not. If no wand would fit him, would that mean that he wasn't a wizard after all? That would be just terrible! Desperate, Harry looked around the small shop again, hoping to find one more wand to try. To his shock, he did find one-there was a lone, dusty wand on a top shelf that Harry never would have saw if it wasn't glowing a pale white light. Feeling hopeful, he pointed at it.

"Isn't that a wand?"

Ollivander looked rather surprised. Maybe he had forgotten about it as well. But he held out a hand, and the wand flew into his hands. Carefully, he handed it to Harry.

Harry held it gingerly and stared at it. It was long, pale, and shining, and cold as ice in his hands. Harry was not sure that was a good sign, given that all the other wands that had spluttered sparks for him had felt rather warm. But still, he waved it about experimentally…and a puff of smoke escaped from the tip.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said quietly. "You have found the wand made for you."

"Huh?" Harry said, confused. How had he come to that conclusion?

Mr. Ollivander smiled thinly.

"I believe I have a box for that wand…come to the back with me, and I will find it for you."

Harry followed Ollivander into the back room of the shop in a state of confusion. Ollivander showed him in, closed the door behind them, and stood staring at him with his big creepy eyes.

"Mr. Potter," he said abruptly, "this wand that has chosen you is especially unique. It is, in fact, not one that I made. It is yew, 13 inches long, and has a core of vampire blood. In fact, I'm quite sure that selling this is illegal-so let's consider it my gift to you. I only ask that you do not tell anyone of what it is made, nor where you procurred it. Otherwise it may cause you trouble, you and me both."

So the wand that would choose him had to be illegal. Great. It seemed that he was fated to be a weirdo anywhere. Maybe he'd even become a wanted criminal. But even this was better than nothing…so Harry simply nodded his head, and tried not to look depressed.

"This is a very powerful wand, Mr. Potter, and it was made for great things-as re you. Use it well."

With that, Ollivander ejected Harry from the room with a wand box that Harry had no idea when he had found.

Both Lucius and Draco were very curious about Harry's new wand, and asked lots of questions that Harry wasn't meant to answer. It was a lucky thing that Harry was a practiced liar, and spun a tail that it was made of dragon heartstring from some type of dragon that was going extinct, which explained why it had to be kept hush. Fortunately, Draco was rather eager to get his own wand, which stopped the questioning. After Draco had gotten his wand, without nearly so much trouble as Harry, they left the shop.

The three of them had lunch at a posh looking restaurant, where Harry felt stupid, and then they finished their shopping. Harry and Draco were left looking at brooms for about an hour while Lucius disappeared god-knows-where. Draco told Harry a great deal about Quidditch between his snipes and insults, but thankfully, Lucius returned before they could get into a real tuss and took them home.

Harry found Ixander reclining in his room, lazily flicking through a book, and carelessly allowing the afternoon sunlight to explode into sparkles on his skin. On seeing Harry, he smiled, and threw the book down.

"Did you enjoy yourself in Diagon Alley?"

"Definitely!" Harry replied cheerfully, pouring his purchases onto the bed. Ixander hummed, and asked for his wand.

Harry opened the box carefully, watching Ixander out of the corner of his eye. Ixander was a vampire-would he be able to tell that the wand was filled with vampire blood?

"Very nice, Harry. The wood is yew, yes? And the core?"

Harry hesitated. Ollivander had warned him to tell nobody. Should Ixander be an exeption? Did he maybe know already? Could he trust him with this secret? No. In the end, Harry was not experienced in trust.

"It's dragon heartstring, and yew, yeah." Harry's voice was not quite as flippant as he would have liked.

Ixander looked at him, and Harry couldn't tell from his perfect face whether he knew it to be a lie. Harry felt rather anxious-or was that guilt? Harry had never had reason to feel guilty about lying before.

"It's a beautiful wand, Harry. Let's see how well it works for you, hm? I taught you a few spells."

"Er…" Harry felt rather abashed. "Lumos?"

Nothing happened.

"Speak more firmly, Harry."

"Lumos!"

A very dim light appeared at Harry's wandtip. Harry was disappointed. What had happened to it being a very powerful wand?

Ixander was not surprised, but he kept it off his face. It was what he had been doing ever since he had set eyes on that wand. Oh irony of ironies, so Ollivander had found a wizard for this wand at last. At least, it was comforting to know that he had kept his promise. Only Ixander knew what the core really was. He should know-after all,it as his blood.

But to Harry, he said, "Don't worry, Harry. Some wands just have to be grown into, like clothes."

He then left, lying that he needed to hunt. Actually, he only needed to think. He had to think about what he should do, how he should play this game. Because the fact that this wand had chosen Harry, meant that he was destined to become a vampire.

Left alone, Harry stared at the pale wand in his hand, disgusted. He was sick and tired of thing that needed to be grown into, seeing how that was Petunia's favourite phrase whenever Harry complained about wearing Dudley's huge clothes. He chucked it down on the wand, and procceeded to ignore it and go through his other supplies.

As he picked up a texkbook, a thin notebook fell into his lap. He picked it up. It was too old to be part of his shopping, and too blank to be likely to belong to another shopper. Harry had no idea how it had gotten mixed in with his shopping, but seeing how he was not likely to find the owner, he might as well keep it. He needed to practice with those quills, and now he wouldn't have to ruin he new parchment.

Harry rummaged in his shopping, and pulled out a self-inking quill, opening the notebook to a page in the middle. He gripped the quill awkwardly, and, experimentally, wrote down the date in wonky letters.

To his surprise, the writing immediately disappeared, as if soaked into the page, and a new line of writing appeared in it's place, neat, slanted, and as different from Harry's scrawl as possible. It read:

_Has it really been that long?_


	8. Chapter 8: Adoption Mania

**A/N: A long chapter to make up for the long hiatus. About that notebook in the last chapter-that'll be addressed later.**

* * *

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter Eight: Adoption Mania**

Dinner at Malfoy Manor was a deceptively harmonious affair. Narcissa fussed quietly over Draco, Lucius and Ixander made small talk, and Dobby served in silence. Harry, however, was restless. He was pretty sure that Lucius Malfoy was eyeing him every time Harry looked down, and it freaked him out. Dudley had a habit of doing that too, usually before a session of Harry-hunting.

So he pretended to look down…and peeked up sneakily through his fringe.

"AHA!" Harry cried, gaining everyone's attention and pointing at Lucius with his fork. "There! You've been staring at me!"

Ixander, naturally, was always ready to suspect Lucius. He looked at him with cold scarlet eyes.

Lucius' lip curled. "Yes, Harry. I find myself irresistably attracted by your impeccable table manners."

That was sarcasm. Lucius had a habit of insulting Harry with big words that he did not quite know the meaning of. Harry hated it.

"Yeah? Well, your manners are impec-impeckishable too!"

Ixander roared with laughter, Narcissa covered her mouth with a napkin, obviously laughing behind that.

"I thank you kindly, Harry," Lucius drawled. "That means the world to me."

Harry scowled, and grumbled, "Yah-boo-sucks."

"And what are you working on lately, Lu?" Ixander enquired dryly.

Now Harry was happy. Lucius absolutely hated being called 'Lu', much like Ixander wouldn't stand for being called 'Ixy'. Harry'd have liked to try it, but he didn't quite dare. Only Ixander got away with it. According to said vampire, it was a 'sibling thing'.

Lucius gritted his teeth and replied in curt tones.

"A legislation to reduce unneccessary protection of the muggle population."

Ixander smiled warmly. "Well done, Lu. Father would be so proud."

That was obnoxiousness. Draco was rather good at that too, but he couldn't beat Ixander.

Lucius turned abruptly to Draco.

"Draco, this is why you don't have siblings. Keep that in mind."

Draco swallowed his mouthful, nodded, and replied, "Yes, father."

Bah, what a daddy's boy. Harry rolled his eyes. Harry usually had sympathy with boys who were called wet-mainly because they were also Dudley's victims-but Draco just got on his nerves. He always did.

"Oh that's rich," Ixander murmured mockingly.

"If you are finished undermining my authority in this house, I believe there is something you wished to discuss," Lucius said stiffly.

"Should I retire?" Asked Narcissa.

From what Harry had seen, Narcissa Malfoy seemed to be a very deferencial sort of women. Harry had yet to see her make an imput without being prompted. She unnerved Harry a little, but Lucius obviously liked her fine-he would, the self-absorbed snob.

"No, Narcissa, this concerns you," Lucius assured her. "This concerns us all."

Everyone looked at Lucius expectantly, except Ixander, who looked bored.

"I wish to adopt Harry."

* * *

Mondays at the Ministry of Magic never ceased to be chaotic. Fireplaces gave out periodic burst of green fire, expelling sooty figures. Harry looked around in wide-eyed curiousity as soon as he had stopped hacking his lungs out. He noted that Lucius was wearing a pinched look that he took to mean that he was embarrassing him. Harry blushed and rubbed his nose.

"Good day, Mr Malfoy, I was wondering-"

"Mr Malfoy, have you-"

"Ah, yes, Malfoy, just the man I wanted to see-"

Harry was overwhelmed by a sudden influx of men who were apparently very interested in Lucius.

"Gentlemen," Lucius interrupted with a smile. "I am sympathetic, but I have an urgent appointment with the Minister. So, if you please-?"

The men dispersed like a flock of sparrows. Despite Lucius' dodginess, Harry had to admit, that was rather cool.

Until Lucius grabbed his hand and procceeded to drag him through the corridors.

"Ew! Let_ go_!" Harry yelped.

"And risk you losing yourself in here? I don't think so."

"Gah, you suck. Why can't Ixander adopt me?"

"I assure you, if you were not Harry _Potter_, I wouldn't even spare you a glance, let alone go to this trouble."

"Yeah, and if you weren't Lucius _Malfoy_, I wouldn't ever agree!"

"Shut up," Lucius concluded, and thrust the two of them into a lift.

Harry huffed. Lucius was surprisingly strong-no matter how he wrenched and squeezed and scratched at the offending hand, Lucius remained stoic, and did not let go of him until they reached a door.

"Now, Harry, this is the Minister's office. Despite our mutual distaste for each other, I do expect you to make a rational choice between your filthy muggle relatives and I."

"Yeah, yeah. I still don't like you."

Lucius rolled his eyes dramatically, and rapped on the door.

It opened to a swarthy middle-adged man with an oily sort of face. He threw the door wide open, beaming, and shook Lucius' hand heartily.

"Hello, Lucius! Good to see you, good to see you, as always."

"Good morning, Minister." Lucius smiled a smile so fake Harry could practically hear the crinkle of the wrapper as he threw it away. " Harry, say hello to the Minister."

They had discussed this, Harry was meant to act as though Uncle Vernon lurked behind Minister Fudge's shoulder. Well, Harry could act. He shifted behind Lucius and shyly mumbled a greeting.

"Er, hello there, young man?" Fudge looked confused.

"It's alright, Harry. You are safe here," Lucius said smoothly, pushing Harry in front of him and smoothing back his fringe.

"By Merlin, Lucius! Is that Harry Potter?"

"The one and only," Lucius confirmed darkly.

"My, my, it's an honour to meet you, my boy! Miracle worker, you are…and what brings you here?"

Harry blinked. Yes, he had been told he was famous, but he had expected to be the 'omigosh it's David Beckham!' sort of famous. But this was the Minister of Magic! Like a prime minister! The prime minister wouldn't fawn over just any celebrity. Harry was momentarily overwhelmed. Fortunately, the script only required him to look small and frightened, and Lucius cut in smoothly.

"That is exactly what I wish to discuss with you, Minister. I would like to adopt Harry."

"Ah, I'd adopt him, myself, Lucius, wouldn't we all? But you know what Dumbledore says about his safety-hid him away nice and tight. I'm surprised you found him!"

"Don't even mention that despicable old fool, Cornelius. I did not find the boy, he was forced to escape from those disgusting muggles Dumbledore left him with, because they abused him! Consider! This child here has sacrificed so much for the wizarding world, and _this_ is how he is repaid! It is not to be borne!" Lucius proclaimed.

"Can-can that be?" Fudge spluttered.

Lucius patted Harry's shoulder. "The proof is right here."

"Unbelieveable," Fudge muttered, "always so moral…assured me…"

"You know what I have always said."

"Yes, and, well, obviously-you're right! Good gracious, poor boy. I completely approve, of course, Lucius. There can be no better man to provide Harry Potter with the sort of home he needs. We can make the necessary arrangements presently. But do you think we ought to call a press conference about the matter?"

"Wise idea, Minister. No doubt Dumbledore would wish to keep his mistake-or plot, whatever it is-covered up, so we must make it known."

"Lucius," Harry piped up anxiously. "I don't want people to know!"

"I understand, Harry," Lucius soothed with infinite patience that had never before surfaced. "But only with the support of others will we be able to keep you safe."

Harry looked doubtful.

Lucius and Fudge talked over his head, and Harry just zoned out. Whatever. Sit still and look freaked out, wasn't it? Lucius could handle it. Ixander wouldn't let him harm Harry.

After Lucius and Fudge cemented the details of the emergency press conference, which was to take place that very afternoon-Harry really was very important, Fudge had kicked a load of appointments out of the way to accommodate this-Lucius went off to settle his other business with the hundred other people vying for his attention, and Harry tagged behind.

* * *

Meanwhile, Severus Snape turned up at Malfoy Manor.

Despite Lucius' opinions, Dumbledore was not an entire fool. The squib he'd planted to watch on Harry was a bit slow, true, but she had eventually noticed that Harry didn't seem to be around, while the Dursleys most decidedly did. Severus had been given the unpleasant task of interrogating the Dursleys. It was unhelpful, but Severus did leave them a lasting…_impression_. Then Minerva dug through the charmed mail and found the address Harry's Hogwarts letter went to. That was also unhelpful. That had seemed to be the dead end, until, somehow, Dumbledore had gotten out of a goblin that Harry Potter had been at Gringotts, and had been seen to floo to Malfoy Manor. Once again, Severus was the one who had to investigate the lead-because, of course, he was _such_ good friends with Lucius Malfoy. Or perhaps it was because he was Dumbledore's little errand boy. Either way, Severus had not had much fondness for the Potter boy in the first place, and none remained now. What a dratted wild goose chase.

"Master is being not home, Mr. Snape sir!" Dobby squeaked on answering the door.

Severus' lips thinned. "When will he be back?"

"Dobby knowsn't, sir!"

"Severus Snape."

Severus heard an unfamiliar male voice and then a man was inches from him. He looked up into vivid crimson eyes, and registered unearthly beauty. The vampire smiled, and took a step back.

"What brings you here?"

"Ixander." Severus dragged out the vampire's name from the corners of his mind, and the vampire's smile widened in confirmance.

Ixander made a gesture of welcome, and led Severus into the house. Severus stared at the vampire, his mind whirling. Ixander Malfoy, twenty years ago the perfect Malfoy heir…they said he had died of illness, and society was so forgetful of even the most brilliant of its members. Ixander had been handsome in life, and with a vampire's beauty he was exquisite. Severus remembered him as aloof and cold, disdainful of Severus' impure blood when even Lucius was won over by his skill. Now, he was even more untouchable-but also irresistable. The best of predators.

"I gather you are here to see Lucius. He had some business at the Ministry. I hope it isn't urgent?" Ixander's voice flowed like cool water.

"Ah…depends how you look at it," Severus replied.

"Are you agreeable to waiting?"

"I suppose."

Severus settled into an armchair in the parlour, and raptly watched Ixander sprawl on the sofa across from him.

"Drinks?"

"No thank you," Severus refused, as he always did.

Ixander smiled. "Of course, I recall-you are a potions master. Lucius speaks very highly of your abilities. What is it you do now?"

"I teach at Hogwarts."

"A professor?" Ixander seemed amused. "I confess myself surprised, you had never seemed likely to be a teacher in your youth."

"I did not expect it myself," Severus admitted.

"Yes," Ixander agreed, "Life can bring such unexpected things to us. I would never have expected to be a vampire. Fate and prophecy…can be such a bitch."

Prophecy. Severus stiffened at the word, wondering if it was more than coincidence, and inclined his head in agreement. Ixander Malfoy had always been a compelling man who easily charmed, and it was not difficult to keep a conversation going, even with Severus, who was no good at speaking when it involved no insult. It was all small talk, yet Severus found it interesting. He had never made small talk with a vampire before. He felt drawn in by Ixander's charisma, and if he had a task, it could wait.

A crash in the hallway, and Severus jumped. He frowned, annoyed at himself-he was not usually so easy to scare.

"Draco! Oh, I told you holding that broom while we apparate was a bad idea! Are you hurt?" He heard Narcissa's voice.

"Narcissa and Draco," Severus said. "I should greet them."

He rose, and Ixander looked up at him with a lazy smile, his eyes glittering, before he too stood up.

As Severus stepped into the hallway, the door fell closed for a second-and he remembered why he was here. The next second, the vampire was beside him once more. Without looking at him, he strode towards Narcissa and Draco.

"Godfather!" Draco's eyes lit up when he saw him, and he rushed to his side. "Godfather, you're here! I think I worked out that riddle you gave me last time, come and see-if I did it right you have to make me the lucky potion like you promised."

Draco successfully tugged Severus away. Severus turned back and nodded at Narcissa in greeting, and noticed that Ixander's perfect face was expressionless as he looked at him.

"Just a moment, Draco," Severus said quietly after they left Narcissa and Ixander's view, and slipped into a bathroom.

Once alone, he threw down a few privacy spells, and summoned up an image of a familiar redhead.

"_Expecto patronum_!"

The beautiful silver doe formed in front of him.

"Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy is at the Ministry. You must be swift."

* * *

"Harry Potter, how do you feel about your return to the wizarding world?"

"Hey, smile, kid!"

Being famous was not fun.

Harry stood at Lucius' side beside the podium, staring out at the roomful of reporters and flashing lights. It wasn't that he was intimidated, per se. No. It was just the act. The freaked out, hyperventilating…act.

"You're shaking," Lucius pointed out unnecessarily.

"Shuddup."

Lucius smiled in a distinctly up-himself sort of way. "Don't worry yourself. I'll do all the talking."

At this moment, Minister Fudge emerged, rubbing his hands together, and walked up to the podium.

"Alright, Lucius? Alright…witches and wizards, quiet now, if you please! Good, now. I have called this emergency press conference to share with you all something Mr. Malfoy here has brought to my attention and which has disturbed me greatly. I am certain that this news will arise similar reactions from the British wizarding community at large.

"As we all know, ten years ago young Harry Potter survived the attack of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in person, while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself, did not. For this miracle, we hail him as the Boy-Who-Lived. But these ten years, Harry Potter has disappeared from public eye. Albus Dumbledore assured us that Harry Potter was in safe hands, and refused to reveal his whereabouts to even the Ministry. But is that the truth?

"A few days earlier, Mr Malfoy found Harry Potter alone in the wild. He had escaped from the clutches of the muggles Dumbledore had left him with…because they abused him."

The room exploded, everyone stared and shouted questions at the same time so no one made any sense. Harry bit his lip and shrank into Lucius' side. Lucius squeezed his shoulder. Harry looked up into Lucius' grey eyes, and found that they weren't as hard as steel after all. It was almost like having a father.

"You mean sexual abuse, sir?"

Harry winced, and employed one of Uncle Vernon's tried and true swear words. Lucius hissed at him in reprimand. Yep, definitely like having a father.

"No, no," Fudge denied. "In protection of Mr. Potter, the details of the crimes committed towards him will not be discussed. This outrage will not be borne by the Ministry of Magic. We will be negotiating with the muggle government to see that sufficent measures are taken. Albus Dumbledore, whose neglect has allowed this to happen, will also be summoned for questioning by the Ministry. As for young Harry, Mr. Malfoy has decided to adopt him into his family. Mr. Malfoy is a well-known and upstanding member of our society, famed for his sympathy and generosity. I have no doubt that he will provide the ideal family for our Harry. Now, any questions may be directed to Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter."

"Sympathy and generosity?" Harry mumbled as he followed Lucius onto the podium. "Does Ixander have some other brother I don't know about?"

In deference to their audience, Lucius ignored him.

"Mr. Malfoy, how did you come across Mr. Potter?"

"I have some business in the muggle world, it was a thing of chance."

"Mr. Potter, can you describe the sort of abuse the muggles put you through?"

Harry looked at Lucius in panic, but Lucius just nodded at him.

"Um-er…well, they never gave me enough to eat…" Uproar. "And I had to do all these chores…oh, and I slept in the cupboard…and Dudley, that's my cousin, beat me up all the time, but I don't think that's abuse, is it? Oh, and they lied! They told me that my dad died cos he drove drunk, but they lied!"

More uproar.

"Mr. Potter, do you mean to say that you were ignorant of magic?"

At this moment, the door to the conference room burst open.

There stood an old man in lime green robes and a yellow cap, with billowing beard and a twinkle in his eye, just like on chocolate frog cards. To Harry, he seemed like the twelfth witch at Sleeping Beauty's birthday party-an evil gatecrasher.

"Harry," said Albus Dumbledore. "There you are."

* * *

**If you have any comments or questions or requests, please review and tell me about it!**


	9. Chapter 9: Finally, Hogwarts

**A/N: I was so sick and tired of the pre-Hogwarts stuff...and I did some planning, and realised that I still had loads and loads of chapters to write. So we're speeding things up, and going to Hogwarts. Also, due to the planning, I have finally decided what the story pairing is going to be, and it's going to be HP/LV, with HP/DM as some first love. But that's not going to occur until third year, and third year is a long way off. If you have any suggestions, review and tell me, and I'll consider it. The Volturi are also going to feature, and I have fixed up Evan Rosier as the ultimate antagonist. I actually really like him, heh heh. He's a cool baddie. An outtake from my planning:**

Harry: What happened to your hair? I thought you were dark haired...

Rosier: Well, I used to be tall, dark, and brooding, but Tom stole my look. So I decided to fight the stereotype that blonds are stupid. Funnily, I have felt distinctly more foolish since I dyed it...

Harry: ...Why don't you just dye it back?

Rosier: Harry, Harry. If I can't even overcome blondness, how will I overtake the world?

**And another, a HP/TMR moment:**

Harry: I can't keep up with you, Tom! You have so many damn mood swings it's like you're real.

Tom: I'm a book, Harry, I have a different face on every page.

Harry: Then where do you keep your soul?

Tom: You are my soul.

**I smirk and feel pleased with myself. Hey, I actually did planning. This story is now the proud owner of a plot. I want rewards.**

* * *

**The Road Not Taken**

**Chapter Nine: Finally, Hogwarts**

"_Mr. Potter, do you mean to say that you were ignorant of magic?"_

_At this moment, the door to the conference room burst open._

_There stood an old man in lime green robes and a yellow cap, with billowing beard and a twinkle in his eye, just like on chocolate frog cards. To Harry, he seemed like the twelfth witch at Sleeping Beauty's birthday party-an evil gatecrasher._

"_Harry," said Albus Dumbledore. "There you are."_

For the reporters, this was too good to be true. Nothing better than a good old facedown. They flocked to Dumbledore like flies.

"Professor Dumbledore! Can you explain-?"

Albus Dumbledore held up a hand with a patient smile. "My friends, I have been searching for Harry ever since he disappeared. I do believe I need to be explained to, more than anyone present, in fact."

"Professor Dumbledore, what are your reasons for leaving Harry here with muggles who abused him? Was it negiligence, plot, or…?" A young woman asked matter-of-factly, with an air of thoughtfulness that contradicted the gleam in her eye.

"This is a great misunderstanding," Dumbledore said. "It would be an exaggeration to say that Harry's relatives abused him. I assure you all, they are blood, they care for one another, and while rifts will arise between family, it is nothing that cannot be solved. Harry's safety is my utmost concern, and I would not wish any disagreement between child and guardian to be taken advantage of by those who have ulterior motives."

He stared pointedly at Lucius Malfoy.

Harry felt Lucius' arm snake across his shoulders, almost embracing him, and understood that it was to mock Dumbledore. Therefore, he resisted the urge to shrug him off.

"Misunderstanding, Dumbledore?" Lucius sneered. "I do not call it misunderstanding when a family keeps a child in a _cupboard_, I call it an outrage. Or, perhaps, this is some mysterious part of muggle culture that I fail to understand?"

"However muggle culture differs from ours, the things that bind us remain the same," Dumbledore said evenly, "love, family, kinship-just as we have. Not one of the fathers and mothers present would consider it reasonable for their child to be taken away on the grounds of disagreement, however fierce, and neither will muggles. The prudent option here, is for Harry to be sat down with his family to talk out their differences. I will see to this."

The overwhelming horror at the idea of ever seeing the Dursleys again drove Harry into action.

"THEY AREN'T. MY. FAMILY!" Harry yelled, struggling free of Lucius' hold and standing as tall as he could. He glared at the old wizard. "They've never treated me like family! I don't want to ever see them, ever again!"

Mutters sounded. Dumbledore made his way towards the raised platform on which Harry stood, and the crowd parted for him in rapt anticipation. He stopped in front of Harry and bent down to meet Harry's gaze.

"Harry." His tone was gentle but his gaze sharp. "There are many things you do not know, or understand, about the wizarding world, about yourself. There are those who do not wish you well, and you must be aware. It is too much to ask, of course, for one as young as yourself to recognise every danger, combat every foe. You would not wish to consort with those who would lead you into peril. I can help you there."

Harry said, "I think I can tell who's the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

Lucius chuckled, supremely smug.

"Well, Dumbledore? Harry himself is the best judge at what sort of treatment he has received at the hands of those who should have cared for him. Harry will be welcomed into the Malfoy family, and I will be a better guardian for him than any muggle."

"You mean to adopt Harry?"

"Exactly," said Lucius.

"I cannot condone this," said Dumbledore.

"It is not for you to condone, _Headmaste_r," Lucius drawled. "I have the _minister'_s approval."

"Cornelius," Dumbledore said, with a distinctly unfriendly look at Lucius, "I must discuss this with you."

"Ah-um," Fudge responded, "Ah, yes, I suppose…"

Harry's heart started thudding madly as Dumbledore turned to Minister Fudge. Whether from Ixander or Lucius or chocolate frog cards, he had learnt that Dumbledore was a Very Powerful Man. What if he convinced Fudge to send Harry back to the Dursleys?

But Harry suddenly noticed that Lucius' supremely smug look had not faded. Dumbledore and Fudge were muttering furiously together, the reporters were muttering furiously between themselves, and Lucius was looking pleased. What was he missing here?

"Mr Malfoy," a crisp female voice suddenly cut through the muttering, and Harry jumped as he noticed that the speaker was just beside him. "The adoption papers are in order, sir."

Everybody turned to stare as Lucius lifted the roll of parchment from her hands.

"Thank you, Amanda," Lucius drawled, and held the roll up to Dumbledore's gaze. "I took the liberty of speedening up the paperwork a little in time for this conference, Minister. I do hope you won't mind?"

He paused, but Fudge made no reply, so he continued to look at Dumbledore.

"Well, Headmaster? What more have you to say?"

Dumbledore held Lucius' gaze for long moments before turning to Harry.

"I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry," he said quietly, and swept from the room.

Dumbledore had lost.

After the press conference was quickly wrapped up, Lucius and Harry looked at each other in the aftermath of victory.

"Well now." Lucius crossed his arms. "Let's hear you call me father."

Harry considered this briefly before a wide grin spread across his cheeks.

"Okay, pops!"

Lucius' lip curled. "…Stick with Lucius."

Harry smirked. He got Lucius just fine. If there was one thing old Lu couldn't stand, it was plebianess.

* * *

If Severus had despised the Potter boy before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. He stared murderously at the line of small children filing into the Great Hall; beside him, Pomona Sprout shot him a startled look. Severus ignored her. Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked utterly unperturbed, sneaking a sweet out of his pocket and popping it into his mouth. The corner of Severus' lip curled up. He may be milking his dotty old man persona for all it was worth at the moment, but Severus had been there when he'd sat speechless for an hour after returning from the ministry. Whether he had a plan to counter Lucius Malfoy, Severus had no idea. The old man was, as always, evasive.

McGonagall was now pulling open the roll of parchment to begin the sorting. Severus searched the line of midgets for the particularly intolerable one, but did not immediately find him.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A small blonde girl stumbled towards the stool, looking bewildered. _Not an ounce of self control. A Hufflepuff for sure_, Severus thought contemptously. Sure enough, Hufflepuff was what the hat proclaimed. One of these days, if the hat got sick, Severus could probably fill in. Indeed, if Severus had been to judge, Dumbledore would most certainly have spent his seven years in the Slytherin dungeons.

Severus glanced sideways at the headmaster, and found him twiddling his thumbs as he watched the sorting. By the time it finished, the old man would have memorised all the names of the new students, the houses they were sorted into, and also something of their personalities. It was a feat Severus had been attempting to imitate, with limited success. Dumbledore had the advantage of experience and power. Severus did not bow to many people, but Dumbledore's power was such that he could not hope to reach.

Laughter made Severus turn his attention back to the sorting, only to find that none other than Neville Longbottom had tripped over himself on the way to the stool. Severus raised an eyebrow. Was the other potencial prophecy child so incompetent? The Dark Lord would be quite furious if his designated nemesis turned out to be a Hufflepuff. Gryffindor, however, was the hat's proclamation, and Severus had to wonder if the old thing was truly as impartial as Dumbledore claimed. He would not put it past the old man to manipulate even the sorting hat.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Lucius Malfoy's surname caught his attention, and he watched as the young likeness of Lucius swaggered to the stool. He was sorted into Slytherin without a glitch. Severus remembered first seeing him at the celebration of his first birthday, tightly held in the arms of his mother and forced to keep silent as the adults around him plotted and planned. The boy would not remember, that the Dark Lord had caressed his cheek and commented that it was a fortunate thing he had been born a month premature, the words directed towards Lucius but his eyes on Severus. Draco, Severus recalled, had burst into tears at the Dark Lord's touch. Smart boy, Severus thought sardonically.

And now Severus watched with rapt attention as McGonagall proceeded to the P's. He barely spared a glance to the pair of new Slytherins sorted before it came to 'Potter'.

Of course, there was muttering. Everybody sat up straighter and peered as a small boy appeared from behind a gangly redhead and stumbled up to McGonagall. He looked just as the picture in the Prophet showed, almost an exact replica of James Potter. The impotent rage stirred up again. _Fool boy, undermining your mother's sacrifice, consorting with dangerous men like Malfoy, don't know what's good for you…_Severus silently seethed as the hat sat on the boy's head. _Reckless, irresponsible, without a brain to speak of, just like your father…_

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Dumbledore!" Severus snarled, spittle flying from his mouth as he turned to glare at the old man. "The hat has obviously gone senile in its old age. I demand-"

"Senility is nothing to sniff at, Severus," Dumbledore said, infuriatingly calm. "In fact, I find it rather refreshing."

Severus ground his teeth. "I demand the boy be immediately removed from _my house_."

"That might be wise, Albus," Sprout put in, eyeing Severus apprehensively. "Hufflepuff House would be glad-"

"Ah, Pomona," Dumbledore said, "The Sorting Hat has been doing a splendid job for longer than any of us have been alive. I trust that its choice is the best one."

Severus knew from experience that Dumbledore would not be changing his mind, and with a muttered insult, turned to look at what Potter was doing. He found the boy sitting opposite Draco Malfoy at the end of the Slytherin table, talking to the recently sorted Theodore Nott. On either side of Draco sat Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott…sons of Death Eaters, and Potter's new cohorts. Harry Potter did not know what was good for him.

A final Slytherin took his seat gracefully beside Potter, and Dumbledore rose to give his annual greetings. Severus was not listening. The old man was far too calm-and too crazy, but nothing could be done about that. Severus would not be giving his new Slytherins _his_ annual speech. He would be in Dumbledore's office, throwing the biggest tantrum he could work up and demanding that the insufferable Potter child be removed from his house, from the school, away from his sight.

Food appeared on Severus' plate, but the oily texture only made Severus want to retch. After a few seconds' deliberation, he decided there was no reason his tantrum should be postponed-it would start now. Fuming wordlessly, Severus pushed back his chair, stood up, and swept from the room without a backward glance.

* * *

Harry stopped listening to Draco's pompous and long-winding speech about the Malfoy family when he noticed a professor from the head table suddenly heading out. Since apparently Draco knew absolutely everything, Harry quickly flapped a hand in Draco's face and pointed to the retreating man.

"Who's that?"

"Merlin, Potter, I swear, your manners-_Snape_? Why's he leaving?"

All six of the new Slytherin boys stared at their head of house as he exited from the large doors.

"Maybe he's unwell," suggested Theodore Nott reasonably.

"He can't be ill!" Said Draco. "I have it on good authority he's going to give us a speech later on."

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's obnoxiousness. "So he isn't allowed to be sick 'cos he's got to give you a speech? Great logic, Draco."

"He hasn't eaten anything," said Goyle.

Harry found that a reminder that he hadn't eaten anything either, and the food that filled the table looked wonderful and much more edible than Malfoy Manor delicacies. Deciding that his hunger was more important than the whereabouts of his new head of house, Harry scooped up a couple chicken drumsticks and began to eat.

Draco kicked him under the table; Harry glared at him.

"Potter, please. Stop bringing shame to the Malfoy name. Use your fork."

Harry scowled, picked up his fork, and stabbed into the drumstick without dropping Draco's gaze. He heard a snicker-it was the last Slytherin boy, Zabini something.

"So what's it like living with Draco, Potter? Must be hard work," said Zabini, smirking.

"Oh yeah," Harry said heartfeltly. "You knew him before?"

"Mrs Malfoy and my mother attend a lot of the same functions. Boring functions. We had to entertain each other sometimes."

"We Slytherins are exclusive, Potter," Draco said snootily, cutting up his steak with excessive precision. "Didn't Father tell you? Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle…even Pansy Parkinson over there, we've all met before. You don't get to be a Slytherin if you're just anybody."

"Well, what am I doing here?" Harry snorted.

He was rounded on by looks that suggested he was stupid.

Finally, Draco said, "Those muggles, did they damage your brain? The greatest wizard in the history of wizards is dead because of you. You're the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry noticed that the others were looking distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't particularly enjoy mentioning that either.

Zabini coughed, and said, "So, Potter, tell me some more about your life with Draco."

"That sounds wrong," Harry muttered.

Zabini sniggered, and the moment was broken.

Several helpings and a generous portion of dessert later, Harry was feeling a bit like a slug and wasn't quite sure he wasn't going to start oozing. He burped, and was treated to another 'Potter-you-have-no-manners' glare from Draco. Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He was looking forward to bed, and was hoping Professor Snape really was ill, and would spare him a long, droning speech.

All of the sudden, the remains of the food vanished, leaving Crabbe mid-bite and looking crestfallen. Harry smothered a laugh, and turned his attention to the head table as Albus Dumbledore stood up. Their eyes met.

Dumbledore smiled, looked away, and began to give his start-of-term notices.

Harry was still wondering about Professor Snape's abrupt departure when Dumbledore gave him something else to wonder about.

"-the third floor corridor is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked around, but none of the other Slytherins seemed to be paying Dumbledore much attention.

"-and now, let us sing the school song."

Draco looked up at once, blanching, and Zabini burst out laughing.

"Oh man, Draco-please don't! Do us all a favour!"

"What?" Harry said curiously.

"Ah-this once, at the Ministry Christmas Gala-"

"Zabini," Draco hissed, shoving his wand into Zabini's face.

Zabini raised his hands into the air, and finished with simply, "Draco can't sing."

Harry was amused. He made sure to sing very loudly. Draco was not amused.

After all had fallen silent but a funeral march from the Gryffindor table, Harry looked in their direction and caught Ron's eye. Ron smiled at him wanly. Harry wondered if Ron would still want to be his friend now that they were in different-and not very friendly-houses.

"First years?" After even the Weasley twins had finished singing, a tall, bulky boy with a prefect badge appeared at the first-years' end of the table. He looked a little intimidating. "Follow me."

As Harry got up to follow the other Slytherins, he wondered why not one upper year student had spoken to any of them. The first year girls hadn't even spoken to them much, despite Draco's claiming to have known them. However, Harry was hardly going to go up and make conversation with the intimidating prefect, so he just made small talk with Zabini, who seemed like a nice bloke.

They went along a corridor and down several flights of stairs, until Harry was certain he would never be able to find his way back. Finally, they stopped before a stretch of wall.

The prefect tapped the wall with his wand, and said, "_Puritatis maxime_."

Harry was reminded of Diagon Alley as the wall dissolved and allowed them in.

"_Puritatis maxime_," repeated the prefect, "is the password. You'd better remember it. Usually Professor Snape has some things to say to first years, but he isn't here. Your dorms are through there; your names are on the door. Welcome to Slytherin, feel free to settle in."

With that, he disappeared down a different passage, likely leading to his dorms, and left the ten first year students to fend for themselves.

Everyone looked at each other, and left the candle-lit, empty common room, heading down the narrow passageway. It was one of many that lead off the common room. They soon came to a door on which hung a metal plate, enscribed with the names 'Vincent Crabbe' and 'Gregory Goyle'. Opposite, was a similar door which proclaimed 'Millicent Bulstrode' and 'Dalphne Greengrass'. Further down were two more doors that specified they were for 'Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott' and 'Morag MacDougal & Pansy Parkinson', and then Harry and Zabini were the only ones left.

"It's alphabetical," Harry pointed out, for want of something to say.

"That's right, roommate," Zabini said, smiling easily.

Sure enough, the final door was enscribed with the names 'Harry Potter' and 'Blaise Zabini', and Harry finally knew Zabini's first name. Harry pushed open the door to see a spacious rectangular room lit with torches around the walls. Two four poster beds with heavy green velvet curtains stood on either side of the room. Another door was on the other side of the room, presumably leading to the bathroom.

Harry recognised his trunk standing beside the bed by the window, and plopped down on it with a satisfied sigh. He lay and watched fish swim by the window. The room must be under the lake, he thought groggily. He could hear Blaise whistling as he rummaged through his stuff, and knew he should probably be unpacking his pajamas and toothbrush as well, but he felt too lazy. He didn't even want to take his glasses off. It wouldn't hurt to take a nap.

"Potter! Zabini!" Draco Malfoy's nasal and far-too-perky voice accompanied the sound of the door creaking open. Harry groaned.

"Whadda hell, Draco? Go sleep."

"Seriously? Our first night at Hogwarts and you want to sleep? Hey, I have it on good authority that the Slytherin upper years are having their own back-to-school party and I know where it is. You have to come."

Draco and his good authority. Damn Lucius. "No. Go 'way."

"Did you say party? I'll go," Blaise offered. "Let's devastate a few birds with my sexiness…"

Harry snorted, and rolled over.

"Yeah, yeah. I can see how you would be devastating. Come on, we have to grab Vincent and Greg as well."

There was some shuffling, another creak of the door, and they were gone. Peace and quiet, however, Harry's sleepiness had been rattled by Draco's racket. Yawning loudly, Harry rolled off the bed and opened his trunk. Tugging out his washing stuff, he went off and made use of the rather nice bathroom. Then he donned his pajamas and opened his secret diary.

_Well?_ The word flitted across the page the moment he opened it.

_Say hello to the new Slytherin_, Harry wrote slowly, grinning.

_Well done, Harry. I knew you had it in you_, came the swift reply.

_Thanks. It's pretty good. My roommate is quite nice, but he's gone off with Draco to crash the Slytherin upper years' party. You wouldn't know anything about that?_

_Let's hope they can hold their own; the party is strictly sixth year and above. As they are neither girls nor pretty, I doubt they will receive a pleasant reception._

_Ha ha, good thing I didn't go then._

_Indeed. Is Hogwarts much different from the days I was made?_

_How would I know what it was like when you were made, Tom! But I don't think it's much different, it seems very old. The gateskeeper is pretty funny, though, he's enormous!_

_Hagrid? Oh, he's still there, is he…he's very close to Dumbledore, Harry, you might want to keep your distance._

_Really? I thought he seemed quite nice._

_Hagrid is rather…simple-minded, but he is extremely loyal to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore is not so pleasant to deal with, is he?_

_Oh. It's so good to have you, Tom, you're like a Slytherin's best friend._

_Why, I am much more than just your best friend, Harry…_

* * *

**A/N: Did anyone notice the familiarity of the 'I think I can tell who's the right sort for myself, thanks' quip? Anyone? Anyone? Do comment!**


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